Tremors
by Madisonne
Summary: “But nooooo, no one ever leaks good stuff; they only leak the stuff that’s going to screw everyone else over.” PG-13 for some violence. R&R, please! FINALLY updated, sorry folks!
1. Tremors

Tremors

Author: Madisonne

Part: 1/1 (maybe more)

Disclaimer: For some reason, the people at Bandai keep on forgetting to return my calls... So, no, I don't own them yet. Operative word: YET! MWA HA HA HA HA!!! Ahem... Don't steal, or else I'll sic my demon-chibis on you. Stop laughing! They can strip a cow of its meat in one minute! Or is that piranhas? Hmmm... 

Warnings: Uhmmm, depressing (sort of), action/adventure-ish... I dunno...

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To say that Treize was swamped in work would not only be cliche, it would be a vast understatement. His ten o'clock had run over an extra hour, forcing him to work through lunch and cancel his appointment with his mother, only to be behind an hour in his personal mountain of papers. So, instead of having a calm lunch in a high-class bistro, he was stuck behind a desk, pen in hand, phone at his ear, and computer scanning systems flashing words wildly across his screen.

Earlier he had been calm and methodical in his work. Now, he was pissed. And it took a great deal to piss off Treize Khushrenada. Some idiot had leaked that the base was hiding weapons of mass destruction. What they'd failed to leak along with that information was the fact that the weapons were those confiscated from a local black-market chain and that they were, in fact, being dismantled as swiftly and safely as possible. "But nooooo, no one ever leaks _good_ stuff; they only leak the stuff that's going to screw everyone else over." He hissed softly to himself, scribbling information furiously down on a pad of paper.

"General?" His vid-com came to, surprising him greatly; normally, he would have had to accept any call before it was patched through.

"Yes?"

"We need to move you to a secure location, sir." The soldier on the other end seemed rattled and nervous.

"Why? What's going on?" He pushed his pad of paper slightly to the left, out of the way.

"We're evacuating the entire compound, sir. You need to leave now."

He was greatly puzzled, never before had any compound been totally deserted. "This is highly irregular..."

"Sir, we really don't have the time to argue about this, I'm sending in a few, trusted guards. They will escort you to the jet fighter Z-423a, which is on stand-by for immediate take-off." The unit clicked off just as an entire squadron of swat-troopers came in to collect him. 

In a daze, Treize allowed himself to be led through the compound in the middle of their protective flanking figuration. The ever hurried pace towards the doors began to focus him back into reality, and, when a trooper took over a mega-phone and hollered for the women to "drop their heels and run", he realized that his place was not to be treated any better than anyone else, but to fight for his life like the others.   
"You all go on ahead, I need to be with the troops."

The squadron was indignant, and insisted that he must leave the building.

"As your commanding officer, I _order_ you to leave me alone and save yourselves." He spoke with the calm, powerful voice of the leader he had been raised to be.

Realizing they were beat, the squadron nodded, then peeled off. 

Being jostled by people trying to leave the compound, he picked up his pace to the run everyone else was maintaining and broke into the sunlight, where he saw a sight that he'd never even thought to wonder if he'd ever see. The gates of the compound were flung wide open (he wasn't even sure the compound _had_ gates) and soldiers and civilian workers alike were streaming through the space, a mass exodus the likes of which Treize had never seen. 

Through the anxious conversations of those around him, once safely outside the compound and behind the swat-team's line of protection, he figured out that the compound must have received some threat. Something about a bomb being planted from the inside...

"Oh _shit_..." He realized, with a sinking heart, that the terrorists must have planned this attack to keep them from trying to mess with the weapons they'd confiscated mere weeks before. 

A cell-phone rang loudly, causing everyone to jump in alarm. 

Treize answered his phone with a curt, "Yes?"

"Uh, General, it's me, Merquise. I was wondering if you could help me with a little Dismantling 101. How bad is it if I pull the red _before_ the green wire?"

"No, it's okay. Red before green works... Wait, this is _hardly_ the time to be worrying about first year classes you _slept_ through. Someone could need me to help with the cri..." All of the sudden, it hit him. Zechs was inside, trying to dismantle the bio-weapons before the base exploded and affected people for miles around. "God damn it..." He dropped his cell-phone onto the ground absent-mindedly and headed for the line of swat agents. "I have to get inside."

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't do that."

He sighed, in anger and frustration. "I'm your commanding officer; you _have_ to let me into the compound!"

"Check the handbook, sir. I think you'll find that, under these circumstances, you _have_ to do what we say." A young soldier replied.

"But Zechs is _in_ there!"

"He should have listened to the warnings." The officer spoke matter-of-factly, most of his thought going into the palm-pilot he was using to stay connected with the other swat members.

Treize tried to rush the line, but was stopped by the guards, and made to sit back from the fence. "You don't understand, he'll _die_ in there!"

"Sir, please calm down." The officer holding one of his arms asked.

Moments later, a horrendous explosion shattered the compound to little more that debris.

"No! ZECHS!" Treize screamed, fighting uselessly against the swat-team, his voice cracking from sheer volume. As the dust cleared and there was, obviously, no chunks of building left standing, he collapsed onto the ground. "Holy shit..." He shook his head in disbelief. "He can't be dead. He _can't_!"

The swat-team was not quite sure what to do. After all, Treize was the ranking officer in the compound, but he seemed to be having a bit of a mental breakdown...

"Oh my god..." Treize turned off-white, then threw-up into the grass, shuddering at what he had just seen. 

By the sounds the all around them, the general's reaction was not an unusual one, as civilians and soldiers alike reacted adversely to the fact that they all could have died in one mass murder. 

The swat-team was even more unsure as to what they should do; Treize was doubled up on the ground, trembling and crying ungracefully, and all around them others were having similar reactions, becoming more and more hysterical as the extent of it all dawned upon them. 

To say that Treize felt like shit was an understatement. He felt like throwing himself off of a cliff. Repeatedly. Rocking back and forth, he repeated in a worthless mantra the word 'no', each time more hoarse and despaired than the other. 

When a fellow soldier put a hand on his shoulder, he was in fear of the other's false sympathy. But the man did not patronize him, pointing, instead to a clump of people where a tall blonde soldier was being helped off of the base by a small group of swat-members. 

'Thank god...' He thought, and promptly passed out.

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Notes: This was _way_ cooler when it was in its baby-stages... Let me know if you want a continuation and what you think should happen! ;-)


	2. AfterShocks

After-Shocks

Author: Madisonne

Part: 2/3

Warnings: Slight angst

Disclaimer: For some reason, the people at Bandai keep on forgetting to return my calls... So, no, I don't own them yet. Operative word: YET! MWA HA HA HA HA!!! Ahem... Don't steal, or else I'll sic my demon-chibis on you. Stop laughing! They can strip a cow of its meat in one minute! Or is that piranhas? Hmmm... 

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While half of him struggled valiantly to escape the dark comforts of slumber, the other half pitifully ached to remain incognizant of the world round him. Something prodded at him from inside himself, a quiet reminder of what had transgressed in reality.

After what seemed an eternity, his eyes slowly slid open. The sterile ceiling of a hospital room greeted him and, turning his head, he was slightly sickened at the IV drip they'd cathetered to his left arm.

His hearing had been damaged during the blast, which was why, he figured, the clamorous sounds of a busy hospital were dulled to his senses, a rather eerie, dream-like experience.

"How does that feel?"

"Better... Is it broken?" The voice sounded quite familiar to him.

"No, just badly strained."

"Good. Where's the general?"

'Zechs...' Pulling on his IV rack, he stood up and pushed his way through the cloth screen into the other room to see the blonde examining his bandage-swathed ankle. "Zechs?"

He looked up and smiled. "Hey."

The doctor bristled at seeing him out of his room. "General Khushrenada! You _must_ go back to bed! You could be seriously ill."

Treize looked from the patient to the doctor and back. "Can I stay here?"

The doctor sighed. "Fine, as long as you _sit_." He pushed a chair next to him and gently prodded the taller man into it.

Once the doctor left, he spoke. "What a day, huh?"

Zechs smiled. "Yeah."

"We... We could have... Died..." His voice strained from attempted levity.

"I know..."

"When you didn't come out.. I thought..."

"I know. I thought so too."

"Why did you stay?"

"I had to. It was... Right." He explained.

There was a moment of silence; then, "I'm glad you made it out."

He gave a half-smile of sorts and focused on the ceiling. "So am I."

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	3. Reconstruction

Reconstruction

Author: Madisonne

Part: 3/3

Warnings: Pure fluff and humour (be still my heart)

Disclaimer: For some reason, the people at Bandai keep on forgetting to return my calls... So, no, I don't own them yet. Operative word: YET! MWA HA HA HA HA!!! Ahem... Don't steal, or else I'll sic my demon-chibis on you. Stop laughing! They can strip a cow of its meat in one minute! Or is that piranhas? Hmmm... 

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"They must think we're bloody _deaf_..." He scowled, referring to the giggling girls behind him.

The general continued to leaf through their orientation book. "Well, we _are_ the only decorated men _here_..."

Zechs made a face. "Well, if_ you_ hadn't..."

Treize looked up from his book. "Oh, don't even _try_ to blame _this_ one on me! I already won this fight. Remember? The whole not telling me about the yellow wire thing?"

"Oh really?" He shot back. "Because _I_ remember it ending quite differently." He smirked. "If you don't concede your loss, I'll tell everyone that you put the 'fruit' in the word 'fruit-cake'."

"You wouldn't _dare_..."

"Wouldn't I?"

"If you do, I'll cut your hair!" He threatened.

"No!" He clutched his hair protectively. "You fight _dirty_..."

Treize shrugged. "I do what I must."

Just then, the instructor walked in. Both men sunk low in their chairs, expressions of dread on their faces.

"Oh no..." Zechs groaned.

It was then that their instructor saw them in the back row and promptly began to laugh hysterically. After a long couple of minutes, during which the other students began to doubt the woman was breathing, it seemed she was calming down. Then, she looked back up at them and continued giggling manically. 

When she recovered, their teacher, Noin, addressed the class. "Hello, first years, General, Lieutenant." She snickered again. "Welcome to Demolitions 101."

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End file.
